


Don't Forget Me

by samptra



Series: Soldat and Mekhanik [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Tony Stark, Brainwashing, Extremis Tony Stark, Fluff and Smut, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Torture, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 22:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samptra/pseuds/samptra
Summary: Tony swallowed his fear, "My name is Anthony Stark," he managed to get out, unable to keep the quiver from his voice. The gentle touched moved to the corner of his eyes, gently wiping away the tears gathered there."I'm so sorry," a hoarse voice mumbled, and just as suddenly the gentle touch was gone and Tony felt alone.He bit his lip trying hard not to cry.





	Don't Forget Me

**Author's Note:**

> Without a word of a lie I wrote this in a day, this is the start of a series. I have more ideas for it already writing some, but I thought this was a good place to end the first story it felt like a natural stopping point. Be on the lookout for more. I have fallen in love with Winter Iron and I had to try one but in my own spin. I need more of this in my life. I will do my best to get the next part of the series soon, there will be more Steve/Ed to come and of course, more tooth-rotting fluff between the Bucky and Tony.

* * *

_December 16, 1991 _

“Maybe we shouldn’t go?” Maria asked Howard hesitantly.

Tony rolled his eyes, “I’m fine ma, come on let’s go!” he flapped his hands, stifling the cough that threatened to bubble up.

“You are such a nerd,” Ed mumbled on the way by.

Tony snorted pushing his glasses up his nose, “Am not, who wouldn’t want to go see the Pentagon? You wanna come?” he asked his twin.

“Not on your life,” he dismissed.

Anthony rolled his eyes, as their dad narrowed his, “When are you going to take things a little more seriously Edward? You should-”

Anthony jumped in, “It’s fine dad, let’s just go ya?”

Sighing Howard tossed his brother one final stern look before heading out the door, Anthony shook his head looking back at his twin eyebrows raised.

“You see?” Ed gestured with a look.

Chuckling Tony gave his brother a quick hug, “See you in a bit ok?”

Ed returned the embrace looking put out, “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he grumbled waving him away.

Tony grinned releasing his brother as he turned to go coughing wetly into his arm, “Try and stay out trouble Eddie.”

His twin just snorted and Tony left joining his parents in the waiting car. Unlike his somewhat wayward younger twin, he was interested in learning more about the work their father did. He’d noticed things… small secretive things that intrigued him. He was curious by nature, too curious for his own good, so Ed was constantly telling him. His brother swore it was going to get them in trouble someday.

Still, he wished he was feeling a little better for this, he had some sort of chest infection, again. He grumbled and groused as he settled in the back of the car, yawning as he rested his head against the glass gently dozing to the muted conversation of his parents in the front seat.

He was pulled violently from his stupor at the sounds of screaming tires and crunching glass. His head rebounded painfully off the window, dazed and in pain, he drifted in and out of consciousness, head pounding in tandem with his racing heart.

He thought he heard his mom crying, "Ma…" he tried to yell, his chest hurt, and he tasted blood.

He couldn’t move.

He wanted to…he needed too…

He could hear his dad, talking to someone, pleading…

He faded out again.

Returning to himself again when he felt movement. He screamed as it jarred his head. Oh God, it hurt, he hurt so much.

Someone was pulling him out of the car, was he being held, being saved? 

Dazed he tried to get a look at his saviour, but his glasses were missing and his vision was fuzzy. Whoever it was lifted him higher and he could see grey eyes, cold and distant. His head was swimming and the blackness was closing in.

Anthony Stark knew no more.

-#-#-#-

“Asset put him over there.”

He turned automatically at the orders, moving to comply with the commanding voice of his handler as he pointed to the metal table that dominated the room.

Following directions, he placed the lithe, unconscious body on the unyielding table before moving back to fall into parade rest. He knew there was something special about the appearance of the youth, there was something important about him, something they were excited about.

They crowed around the broken body talking lowly and rapidly.

The Asset felt a pang of anguish bubble up inside him, he wanted to grab the unconscious form and run.

To get away.

He ruthlessly tromped it down, the Asset doesn’t have emotions, doesn’t feel anything… 

On the table, the other began to scream.

The Asset wasn’t supposed to feel anything…but at that moment he was.

-#-#-#-

Everything hurt, oh god why did it hurt?

He woke disoriented and trembling, stifling the scream that wanted to erupt from his throat. Coughing and whimpering he tried to lift his hand; it wouldn’t move.

Breathing harshly, he tested his wrists, tried to move his head; he felt the bite of leather straps against his skin.

Why was he strapped down?

He tried to call out, to ask what was happening to him but a coughing fit wouldn't let him speak. Wheezing and in pain, he blinked crusty eyes trying to get his baring's. He didn't have his glasses. In his periphery, he thought he saw movement in the corner of the room.

“Hello?” he called voice a horse whisper, “Please, where am I?”

He coughed again, the metallic bite of blood in his mouth.

He didn't want to cry, he didn't want to show weakness. Struggling he fought to hold back the tears, but they rolled down his temples are the same. He pulled uselessly against the thick straps, as he held down his sobs.

Suddenly someone was there looming over him, he gasped sniffing pathetically.

"Please," he whispered, wetting chapped lips. He couldn't make out the persons face without his glasses, and the too-bright light above him shadowed him from sight.

A big hand reached out, he filched reactively, but the touch was gentle and tender. Fingers thick and callused touched his cheek lightly.

Tony swallowed his fear, "My name is Anthony Stark," he managed to get out, unable to keep the quiver from his voice. The gentle touched moved to the corner of his eyes, gently wiping away the tears gathered there.

"I'm so sorry," a hoarse voice mumbled, and just as suddenly the gentle touch was gone and Tony felt alone.

He bit his lip trying hard not to cry.

-#-#-#-

The Asset stood silent and forgotten in the corner.

He wanted it that way.

If they forgot about him they wouldn’t put him back in the cold, and he could be here…be here with Anthony.

He was worried about Anthony Stark; the young man was dying.

He watched dispassionately as the scientist and handlers argued over the fevered form strapped to the table. He was pale, ghostlike, thin chest rising and falling as he wheezed painfully.

The Asset was remembering.

There was something about him, he made the Asset…feel…and it had been so long since he’d felt anything except the cold and dark. He didn’t want to lose it.

The scientists seemed to come to a consensus around the semi-comatose body of Anthony Stark. The Asset watched as one of them bustled to the far side of the lab, he didn’t move from his position enhanced hearing picking up the conversation.

“What if he doesn’t survive?” one of them hissed, “He is more valuable to us alive.”

The other shrugged looking unconcerned, “It doesn’t matter, he is dying anyway.”

The Asset twitched, he didn’t like, he didn’t want Anthony to die.

“If he lives it will be a successful test of Stark’s serum, if he dies, well…” the man trailed off with a shrug and lifting a large needle to study it in the light.

An involuntary shudder ran down the Assets back. He remembered needles…so many…. his shoulder throbbed were metal and flesh met. 

The scientist was moving back to the pale figure on the table, the Asset watched as Anthony’s head lolled to the side fevered brown eyes looking at him helpless and scared. The Asset wanted to run to him, to comfort him.

He didn’t move.

He held that soulful look as they lifted a thin pale arm injecting the blue liquid into the man. The Asset held on even when those eyes rolled back in his head, and the emaciated form on the arched, and a scream erupted from his throat.

-#-#-#-

He slowly moved into wakefulness, sluggish, he twitched his limbs waiting for that now-familiar scream of pain. Only it never came.

He felt…fine.

Surprised he blinked open his eyes, bringing the world into focus, it was all crisp lines and colours, not blurry indistinguishable fuzz he was used to without his glasses. Frowning he moved his arm, feeling the familiar pull of straps. Irritated he pulled harder surprised when there was rending of metal and his arm came free.

Gasping he reached his free hand up gripping the strap on his other arm surprised when he pulled it off without effort. He felt adrenaline roaring in his ears he sat up eyes darting around the dingy, dirty lab. More awake and aware now he began to feel a low buzz in the back of his head, like radio static confusing and distant.

Not worried about it for the moment he ripped his legs free before hopping off the table expecting that his legs to crumble beneath him he was surprised again as they held; they felt strong.

He felt strong.

Taking a moment, he looked down at himself surprised, he’d been skin and bones, his mom constantly trying to ‘get him to eat’ only now there was muscle. Taught, and sleek, he looked…he looked good. Bending his arms, he noted the swell of his bicep and strong forearms.

What the hell had happened to him?

He moved to the door quickly ripping open the metal without effort, glancing out into the dank, dark hallway.

Where the hell was he?

He couldn’t seem to remember, he’d been in a car with his parents… a sudden painful memory ripped through his mind and he recalled in vivid detail the car getting in an accident. He’d hit his head, then someone had come for him?

Moving into the hallway he jumped when an alarm began to blare high pitched and irritating. Wincing he clapped a hand over his right ear, surprised when the sound wasn’t muffled. He’d been almost deaf in his left ear…

Terrified he tried to run hurrying blindly down hallway after hallway, confused and disoriented in the dark. Until he ran right into a large group of heavily armed men.

"Take him," a heavily accented voice spoke and Tony felt that gut-wrenching panic rise in him.

They rushed him, and he tried to fight. Swinging blindly, he tried to keep them away, a few lucky blows sending his attackers in the wall with dull thuds. Despite his new strength, he was being overwhelmed, he’d never fought a day in his life.

They had him then pinning him to the damp floor, he grunted trying desperately to twist away. The panic and fear were threatening to overwhelm him, and the static in his head growing louder, he could hear overlapping voices not his own.

What had they done to him?

Suddenly he felt electricity racing through him, crying out he arched back. Body going limp in their hold as he dazedly tried to get to his feet.

“Please let me go, what do you want with me…” he begged, but they were dragging him away. Down the complex tunnels, he tried to pay attention but his head was filled with an overwhelming amount of static and information. It felt like it was trying to split apart.

They dragged him into a room, a dingy, dank room dominated by a chair.

Tony felt cold chill race down his back; he didn’t want to be anywhere near that chair.

He pulled harder, scrabbling at the arms holding him but they were already wrestling him into the chair, thick manacles clicking around his arms and legs, shaking he struggled against them as they grabbed his head tightening the straps down. Whimpering he twisted and turned trying to keep his mouth closed as they forced something rubbery and unpleasant between his lips.

Wild-eyed and panicked frantically pulling at the restraints. He tried to talk, to plead with them but it came out muffled broken.

They put something on his head metal and cold, he sucked in ragged breaths as a grinning face appeared above him.

“You will be _Mekhanik_,” he said seconds before the electricity raged through him.

-#-#-#-

1996

The Asset returned from his mission.

He had been successful, he’d completed his assignment within the required time parameters. He had also sustained damage to his arm, the limb hanging at his side unresponsive and mangled. It hurt, it felt like it was on fire. He pushed the pain down, knowing that if he showed pain the handlers may force him to wait for repairs.

“Mission report,” his handler demanded.

The Asset complied, his words clipped and brief. His handler was satisfied before nodding to his arm, “Report to Mekhanik for repair.”

The Asset nodded moving to follow the orders unquestioning, stalking to the room at the far end of the compound.

The place was small, cramped, and filled with machine parts, it looked more like a garage then a lab. Something in his head latched onto the word garage. He shook it away, navigating the chaos further into the room.

“Asset for arm maintenance,” he announced clinically taking a seat on a small stool near a cluttered bench.

He heard movement from across the room, waiting unmoving as a shadowed figure approached him. The figure stepped into a pool of light, throwing the young man into sharp relief. He wore grey coveralls, too big for his slender frame, his face angular but soft, dark stubble roughing his cheeks. Dark hair was shorn close to his head, patchy in spots as if done in haste. Soft brown regarded him flatly, no recognition, no emotion.

The Asset felt something spark in his mind…he knew this person, the Mekhanik.

"Problem?" He picking up a stool and set it beside him. The coveralls were rolled to his elbows, strong forearms crisscrossed with scars and burns. The Asset watched as he lifted his arm onto the table.

Pain flared in the limb and he was unable to stop the slight flinch. Dark eyes caught it though.

“Pain?” The man asked bluntly.

The Asset hesitated, the pain had meant nothing in the past, did it matter?

The Mekhanik did not wait for an answer, he wore fingerless gloves over rough worked hands, clever fingers moving confidently. Carefully he removed plates, delicately connecting wires when suddenly the fiery agony of his arm was gone. He blinked looking from his arm to the man and back.

“Pain?” He asked again eyes still flat, tone monotone, and subdued.

The Asset shook his head and the Mekhanik nodded before leaning over his arm to work. The Asset watched the dark head taken aback, no one had cared that his arm had hurt before. Maintenance had always been painful and agonizing. Yet this man had…he had cared.

Something in his head was sparking again as the man leaned closer. His face, the Asset knew that face. It had been a little younger but not by much.

“Anthony Stark,” he finds the words falling from his lips unbidden. The man froze in place, long silent moments before his fingers were moving again.

It was sometime later when the Mekhanik spoke again, “I’m Anthony,” he whispered so quiet the Asset thought he’d imagined it. Brown eyes looked up at him a spark of recognition was there. He knew…something…

“I know you,” his voice was incredibly soft, brow furrowed, an expression on that once expressionless face. “You are Sargent James Buchanan Barnes…”

The Asset inhaled sharply pain exploding in his head at the words, he felt his hand tremble as images tumbled around disjointed and confused in his head. He closed his eyes breathing harshly through his nose.

The Mekhanik…no Anthony, worked at his arm, careful, and delicate…like he mattered.

“What’s happened to us…” he choked out barely above a whisper, unable to keep the tremor from it.

Beside him, Anthony worked on, "I don't know James."

-#-#-#-

2000

He waited.

The warm press of the body against his felt good. He hated the cold, couldn’t stand it, but the other was always hot. He liked it.

He felt arms encircle him pulling him closer as he pressed the warm body against the wall. They held their position waiting, the target anticipated to be passing by soon. He glanced around them, satisfied they were blending in, others in similar positions outside the night club. He lifted the others leg hooking them about his waist as his fingers snagging in the fishnets.

He dipped his head resting his lips close to the others collar bone inhaling, he smelled of metal, electricity…and warmth. A flash burst across his subconscious, he knew this other he held in his arms….

“Anthony,” he murmured against the hot skin.

He was remembering more, the memories tumbling back into his mind in still flashes. Missions, with Anthony…they had started sending them out together. Soldat and Mekhanik, the two most feared assets of HYDRA.

He felt the body stiffen against him, arms and legs tightening around him almost crushing, but he didn't mind.

“James,” Anthony gasped softly arching into him.

He was James, and the one in his arms was Anthony.

Anthony looked up at him, dark eyes smoky and smudged with makeup, full lips painted red. He wore a short dark wig and a long leather jacket over the tight black dress. They had been ordered to take out the target, publicly so they waited outside the night club hiding in plain sight.

Soldat and Mekhanik…

James and Anthony.

He moved his hands lower, smoothing metal and flesh across the material of the dark dress, he was feeling….heat. It was something outside of the mission, something hot and new. Hot like the heat coming off Anthony pressed so close to him.

“On your six,” a husky voice murmured next to his ear before biting it gently. The heat spread through his chest, coiled in his abdomen. He hoisting Anthony higher, pinning him to the wall with his hips as rough hands reach inside his coat, skating across the thin cotton of his t-shirt and grabbing hold of the gun nestled near his ribs.

He ducked his head, putting lips to the man's collar bone again, he felt Anthony expertly move the weapon to his shoulder siting the target. He waited for one heartbeat…two…the muffled rapport sounded near his ear and he heard the bullet hit home.

The gun was back in his holster before the body hit the ground. They waited for the chaos to start, the screaming and confusion before they were slipping away, Anthony tangling their fingers together as they disappeared into the night.

They held tight to each other until they returned to the room they’d been sharing for the last week. Spilling into the darkened space they paused, standing facing each other close enough to share breath. The moments stretched on James wanting that heat pressed against him again.

Anthony moved slowly, reaching up he pulled the cord on the lone bulb that provided light in their rundown apartment. The dim light threw them into shadows, James tracking Anthony’s movements as the slim figure slowly shrugged out of the long dark leather duster. The material falling to the floor pooling at his feet, grey eyes roved over the lean, well-muscled frame, thin waist and wide shoulders accented by the tight, black velvet dress he wore.

James was feeling that heat flared again, urgent and demanding. Anthony was…

"Beautiful…" he murmured.

The other regarded him curiously head cocking to the side as the short black wig brushed deceptively delicate-looking shoulders. Anthony stepped forward, the heels of his boots muffled on the carpet as he reached out, James capturing rough fingers with his metal arm, pulling the other man to him.

“Am I?” Anthony breathed stepping close.

James cupped his face thumb smoothed across tempting lips. Without thinking he dipped his head kissing red lips deeply tasting, testing, drinking in the man. Anthony moved closer still, clinging to his shoulders as their moths moved together unhurried. 

Anthony broke the kiss first pulling back with a frown, brow creasing in concern.

“They are coming for us,” he murmured nuzzling into his neck pressing hot kisses there. James shivered, his lips felt like a brand. 

James held him close, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I don’t…I don’t…” he tried to get the words out, vainly trying to articulate the overwhelming emotions bubbling around in his chest.

"Neither do I," his Mekhanik confessed, lipstick smeared across his face now. The makeup making his eyes appear dark and fathomless. There were no more words then he was lifting Anthony again easily, feeling those long, lean legs encircle him. They were kissing desperate, knowing their time was short.

He moved them to the wall pinning Anthony once more, rolling his hips against the other. The heat ripped through him, as Anthony gasped and moaned into his mouth. They moved frantically against each other, he felt himself pushing the skirt higher, slotting their hips together firmly. It had been so long…he couldn’t remember…this intimacy with someone. Anthony was gasping softly into his mouth, James could feel him scrambling at his back driving him on as they ground together frantically.

He could feel the heat building, coiling and tightly in his belly, want, need…love. Anthony gasped against his lips, thin frame shuddering as he broke apart in his arms, “James.” The sweet words spilling across his lips pushed him over and he felt that heat break, washing over him so perfectly he didn’t want the moment to end.

James closed his eyes holding him close, “Don’t forget me,” he felt the words spill from his lips and for the first time in a long while he was scared. Terrified he would lose this, would lose Anthony.

Anthony held back just as tight face buried in his neck as they refused to move, “Don’t forget me.”

The words echoed back at him and James wished they could run, get away. He knew they would come through, HYDRA would find them and drag them back. They would force them into that chair force him to forget…then they'd put them back to sleep. He shuddered, the cold creeping in despite the heat in his arms.

Maybe…he’d dream of Anthony.

-#-#-#-

2004

He stood unmoving, breathing lightly as he waited. Listening intently for any signs of life in the room. A gurgling moan off to his left had him turning quickly, stepping over the other lifeless bodies he reached for the man.

“Please, please no…” the man begged.

He didn't filch, strong, rough hands gripped his head and with a quick jerk, snapped the man's neck.

It was silent now in the dingy apartment, all dead, all clear. He stood slowly, moving from the dead to the table where the weapons lay.

Mission; Neutralize the threat, find the weapons.

Quickly he began to dismantle the weapons, learning, memorizing, he could feel the information skittering across his mind. He could see it all in minute detail, the parts the names, he could assemble and reassemble in his head in limitless possibilities. It was easy; the information came so easily.

He set the last pieces on the table, knocking the newspaper to the floor. He stood to leave, mission complete when the paper crinkled under his boot. He paused glancing down at the face looking back up at him.

It was his face.

Something hot and electric skittered across his consciousness, the constant buzzing in the back of his mind roared forward. Once it’d been terrifying now it was comforting, it called to him, gave him information. He leaned down picking up the paper eyes scanning the caption.

_CEO Edward Stark of Stark Industries announced the release of a new line of weapons in conjunction with the US military. _

He stopped, reading, the name, _Edward Stark_ the humming in his head grew and he pushed at it tentatively. Information poured in, overwhelming and painful, he gasped tears in his eyes as it felt like his brain had been ripped open.

He groaned burying his head in his hands, he remembered…oh god he remembered.

He was _Anthony Stark, _he gasped as more information spilled through, as if he called it to him. He had disappeared in 1991, his parents had died in a car crash, he was a twin brother to Edward Stark….

He wasn’t gone he was here, he was….he blinked looking around the room with new eyes, the dead men on the ground the weapons on the table.

Oh, god what had he done.

He looked down at his bloody hands, trembling now, oh Jesus Christ what had he done?

He was remembering more, terrible things, pain…the chair…. He bent over vomiting as the unbearable pain in his head and chest became too much.

He felt a sob stick in this throat, what had he done?

He looked down at the picture again, his brother, maybe he could help?

Help him get away…get free.

Shaking and trembling he stood, rubbing bloody hands on his pants, he could go to him, tell him what happened. Edward Stark could help him. He took a shaky step towards the door he would… he would….

_James._

He stopped, the name drifted in. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t go, not without James. He took deep shuddering breaths, he wouldn’t go without James. The name pulled more information up, it was getting easier now, he could manipulate the information, he could connect to it draw on it.

Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, died in 1945, part of the Howling Commandos, Captain America’s men. _Captain America_, the name, it was important.

He worked the information over in his mind, reworked it, moved it around, he was going to set a new mission. James wasn’t with him, they had just sent him this time; alone.

He would go get James, he would get him and they would both go to Edward Stark, they would get away.

They could…they could be free…

Him and James…free…

He set his jaw stepping out of the apartment and into the night new mission swirling in his mind.

-#-#-#-

"What the hell happened Zola?" the Commander strode in looking dishevelled and beyond aggravated.

"There was a small incident, nothing major," the doctor tried to placate but the man would not be soothed.

“Small incident? He shut down the whole goddamn base! He killed forty men before they subdued him!” the Commander growled crowding the small Doctor, “How the hell did one man do so much damage?”

Zola swallowed thickly, “Yes, well we have located the problem, and we are going to fix it.”

The Commander said nothing, bloodshot eyes narrowing in anger, face red. Zola hurried to explain, "Stark's version of the serum, the ‘extremis', it has side effects we did not foresee."

He pointed towards the man strapped to the table, the dark-haired Mekhanik, part of the HYDRA enhanced program, and the only successful recipient of the serum developed by Howard Stark.

“The serum was different, it has allowed him to tap directly into technologies, like a human computer.”

“Why did we not know about this before?”

“It wasn’t an issue; the advancement of modern technology is making him more powerful…more aware.”

“So, what? We terminate him?”

Zola quickly shook his head he moved across the lab, bypassing the unconscious figure, “No, no, not when he is such a useful asset.”

Zola picked up something before returning, "This, this is the answer." He held up a small metal device crescent-shaped, with a circular disc attached on a wire.

"What does it do?" the Commander asked curiously despite himself.

“It will work as a blocker, shut down his ability to connect, and keep him under.”

Zola looked pleased as he held up, “We will directly interface it with his brain.”

He moved to the still figure on the table turning the man’s head to the side, his scalp was already shaved to the skin, Zola set the device over his ear demonstrating where it would sit.

“We will attach it directly here, anchor it to his skull. Then this,” he held up the small metal disk, “We will attach directly to his brain stem.”

The Commander was unable to help that shudder that raced down his spine, as he reached up to rub at the back of his skull.

“Will it kill him?” He asked unable to help himself.

Zola grinned, a wicked thing made his blood run cold, “We will use the same neural-interface technology as we did on the Asset, we will see.”

The Commander shook his head as he turned to leave, he had no interest in seeing the ad-hoc surgery that was about to happen.

Zola was snapping commands as they prepared, the Commander paused at the door as a thought occurred to him.

“If he was free of the conditioning, why did he come back?” He asked looking back at the doctor.

The man shrugged dismissively, "No idea, he was trying to wake the Asset when we finally managed to subdued him."

Zola was starting a drill; a high-pitched whine began and the Commander hurried away.

-#-#-#-

2008

“Soldat.”

The rough voice of the handler penetrated the veil over his mind calling him up from the dark. He opened his eyes, stepping out of the cryotube, bare feet touching the cold floor.

“Mekhanik.”

The voice called again, and he felt the other step out beside him. His fingers twitched as the name sparked in his mind, he remembered.

Not Mekhanik, _Anthony_…

"Gear up," the voice ordered and they moved in sync, turning they strode down the cold bare hallway. Their clothing was waiting, with quick efficient movements, they tugged on the black combat gear.

Soldat…no, he was James.

Unable to stop himself he turned as the other…Anthony…beside him was pulling on the black long sleeve top, and he caught his breath.

The left side of his head was shaved close to his scalp it was haphazard and crooked, over his ear was a curved metal piece, the same bright chrome as his arm. Gray eyes tracked as it curved over his ear, and as he turned facing away from him he saw the small disc nestled at the base of his skull.

That wasn’t right.

“Mission,” the handler was back and they fell in side by side as they listened to their orders. They were going to Afghanistan; Mekhanik was to find the metal suit, copy, and re-create. Soldat was to make sure the mission was complete, neutralize the Ten Rings.

They nodded moving in tandem again as they gathered their weapons, and were loaded onto the plane that would drop them over their targets last known position.

He waited for the others to leave them, he knew they would. The others were afraid of them, of what they could to do. They would lock them in until the drop point. James tracked them as they left, hearing the bolt slide into place before he was turning to the other.

Anthony started straight ahead, face blank, brown eyes dull and lifeless. He reached out for him, raising his metal hand to touch the metal plate above his ear.

“Anthony,” he said quietly.

The other started turning to him, the blank expression creasing into a frown. James could see him trying to fight, to remember.   


“James?” the name was broken, falling from the other lips confusion and pain in his features.

He was James, and the other was Anthony…beautiful Anthony.

“What?” He asked tracing the metal piece over his ear, he felt the other lean into him. Silent save for the grind and hum of the plane beneath him.

“I don’t remember,” he said finally after long moments, voice small and scared.

He dropped his hand to tangle their fingers together, where they stayed that until they came from them.

-#-#-#-

They watched from the shadows silent and unseen.

They had located the Ten Rings, found the target, and now they waited for their opening. James shifted slightly, positioning his rifle to watch. Something was happening, the camp was moving, agitated. Jeeps were rolling up men in black with guns stepping out.

He recognized Obadiah Stane, he was known to HYDRA, he worked with them; not the target. They disappeared into the tent briefly before emerging moving away, leaving it unguarded for the moment. He grunted to Anthony the man disappearing from his side and into the darkness.

He watched the interaction, mildly curious. The minutes slipped by, and the words turned heated. He felt the familiar presence back at his side, he glanced at him, Anthony nodded. They watched together as the Ten Rings was neutralized.

Mission complete.

They slipped away into the darkness, no one knowing they’d been there. They moved like shadows to the rendezvous point, they would be picked up in the morning returned to back to HYDRA to report.

Reaching the small cave they rested inside out of the cold of the desert night. James shivered, remembering he didn’t like the cold. Beside him Anthony was warm. Always warm, without thinking he pulled Anthony into his lap pressing the warm back to his chest.

Anthony rested against him tipping his head back against his shoulder as he turned his face into his neck. James could feel the rasp of his stubble and those hot lips pressing into his neck. Humming he leaned down kissing those lips like a starving man. He remembered this, remembered the shared intimacy with Anthony. He remembered love.

He skirted his hands down the slim body, fingers reaching for his belt, opening it as they kissed as if it was their last. He moved his flesh and into the other underwear grasping Anthony’s length, shuddering at the heat of him. He moved his hand squeezing gently, swallowing the moans as thin hips bucked into his hand.

He felt hot hands grip his metal arms as Anthony bucked into his hand, he pulled those lithe hips against him, his stuttered movements providing sweet friction. Gasping Anthony ground back against him as James gripping him tightly.

They moved together as one, chasing something neither of them could quite name, just an instinctual moment of love.

Anthony gasped into his mouth as his shuddered and shook, “James…love….” The words were so quiet, barely a whisper against his lips but the washed over him and he pulled Anthony back against himself holding tight as he reached that peak, heat and emotions rolling off them as they halted their frenetic movements and simply held each other.

“Love,” James muttered against a vaguely sweaty temple kissing the shorn hair there before kissing the metal implant.

Anthony sighed, “Love.” 

The emotion was something he had forgotten, he knew he had. He had loved before, he was sure he had, but never like this. It was hot and blinding, perfect…and desperate.

Love was a luxury they were not allowed to have.

He held tight to the man in his arms, Anthony holding just as tightly back.

-#-#-#-

2010

It was the longest he could remember being out. Of being free of the ice and the darkness.

They had left him out to build, they wanted him to re-create the metal man…the Iron Man. Demanded that he do it now.

Anthony could, he knew he could. He could even make it better.

Only something was telling him he shouldn’t.

He built them other weapons, new ones, deadly ones. He did his best to make them faulty, misfire or fall apart. He was remembering more, shedding more of the emotionless husk they wanted him to be. He knew there was more he was missing, something was stopping the memories from coming. He could feel it, like a physical barrier. He gently probed at the silent wall in his mind, pain rippling through his head at the action.

“He’s fucking broken!”

He looked up as they stormed into the lab, careful to keep his expression blank and void.

“He’s not, maybe it was the implant…” the Doctor muttered.

Anthony felt the rage build in him, he hated that man. He had hurt James, hurt him…

“Or maybe you took the wrong goddam Stark! He’s got the most powerful weapon in the world, and you have some brainwashed subpar version.” The Commander snapped.

Anthony didn’t recognize the man he was different than the one he remembered.

“He’s been working on a version,” the Doctor gestured to the metal he’d cobbled together to produce something. 

They talked like he wasn't in the room like he didn't exist. Like he wasn't human.

“This is junk, it’s nothing!” The Commander roared.

Anthony stood still, unmoving…waiting.

"He's broken and useless, just a waste," the Commander turned, drawing his pistol as he stalked towards him. Anthony felt the pistol pressed against his forehead, he didn't move, didn't flinch, he waited. It wouldn't be the worst thing to die here, he'd done terrible, terrible things…it was nothing he didn't deserve.

_James._

If he died James would be alone again. That was unacceptable, he would not leave James, not in life, not in death.

“No!” the Doctor snapped coming to push the gun away from his head.

The Commander narrowed his eyes again before lowering the weapon.

"Put your doll back on the ice, maybe he'll prove useful later."

-#-#-#-

2014

“Soldat,” the voice pulled him up, forcing him to move automatically.

“Mekhanik,” the voice barks again, the other moving as well.

“Mission?” they spoke together, perfectly synced.

“Assassinate Director of SHIELD Nicolas Fury, Assassinate Captain America Steve Rogers, neutralize any threat to Project Insight.”

They nodded repeating back their orders, and he feels a ripple at the name of Steve Rogers. He tromps it down.

They have their mission.

Moving as one they gear up, and he pulls up his mask obscuring his features, beside him Mekhanik tugs on his. A metal muzzle that covers the lower half of his face. They wait to be dismissed, a scientist in lab coats bustle in at the last moment, moving to his companion. He waits, watching.

They plug a cable in the metal over his ear, and the Mekhanik straightens and the Asset frowns behind his mask.

“All done,” the scientist says stepping away.   


“Excellent,” the handler smiles viciously and they were dismissed.

-#-#-#-

“Oh, my god…” Steve breathed unable to look away, unable to move. The words echoing painfully in his head.

_Who the hell is Bucky Barnes? _

"Cap!" he could hear Natasha, but her voice was distant and far. The world around him seemed too bright, too sharp, it hurt his eyes.

“Cap, are you ok?”

He blinked taking a breath, "It's Bucky," he whispered broken.

Natasha was beside him then, grim-faced still clutching the gun, "And that was Anthony Stark with him."

Steve frowned he hadn’t noticed, they had fought hard, so perfectly together. They had been terrifying. Steve still wasn’t sure how they hadn’t all been killed.

“Stark?” he echoed.

“Edward Stark’s twin brother.”

-#-#-#-

"This better be good," Edward Stark strode into the room, his Iron Man suit following at his back. He panned the small space, eyes lingering on the tired-looking Captain America before he cleared his throat and focused on Fury.

“Thought you were dead,” he raised a brow at the man.

“I got better, sit Stark,” he gestured and Ed shrugged, unable to be still. He’d been following what was happening in DC and was more than a little curious as to what they wanted with him.

He hadn't wanted to get involved but he'd been worried about Cap…about Steve.

"Stark, have you ever heard of the Winter Soldier? The Mechanic?"

Ed wracked his brain, it wasn’t ringing any bells, “Can’t say as I have.”

Steve, Tasha, and the other unknown man in the room were suspiciously silent, "Should I have?" he continued realizing something was going on here.

"The Winter Soldier has been all but a myth, a ghost, a HYDRA assassin we've been unable to get much intel on. The Mekhanik even less so. We weren't even sure they existed…until today…"

Ed frowned, trying not to let his emotions show, but there as a growing sense of dread he couldn't name rising in his chest. He resisted the urge to press against his arc.

"Stark, Ed…" Steve spoke quietly, "We fought with them today, both of them. Bucky is….Bucky… is the Winter Soldier."

He looked pained by the words, and Ed felt his heart stutter in his chest. He knew the story of Bucky Barnes, hell the world did, Christ how many time had he and Tony…he cut the thought off right away, too painful.

"Stark, there's more," Fury continued sliding something across to him. He looked down at the glossy photo, clearly pulled from some sort of surveillance feed, but the faces were clear enough. He recognized Bucky, the hair was longer, the face drawn and sunken but it was he could see it and beside him….

He swore his heart stopped.

He knew that face, god he knew that face so well…it was his.

“No…” he gasped and it came out as more of a sob. He looked up at the others, everyone was expressionless, he looked directly at Steve.

“No,” he said, horrified when Steve slowly nodded his head. 

"I'm so sorry Ed," it was Natasha who spoke, but his eyes never left Steve. Sure, his heartbreak was echoed in those clear blue eyes.

-#-#-#-

He watched the dark head bent over his arm, clever fingers moving efficiently as he fixed the frayed wires. Cautiously he moved his real hand to touch the dark hair running his fingers through the longer hair on the right side before gently touch the soft shorn fuzz on the left. 

He felt thick-headed, muddled, they had fought…but it hadn't come easily. It had been so long since they'd had been challenged like that. The man…the man in the street had looked like he'd known him, had called him a name….he had a name.

The man at his side also had a name.

It skittered across his mind before he could grab it.

“James,” the man mumbled at his arm before looking up eyes wide and dark. “Your name is James,” he breathed brows furrowing in confusion.

He was speaking before he understood, “Anthony.”

He dropped his had to cup the man’s face, he looked so young, but they’d been together for so long…years…

“Anthony,” he repeated leaning forward touching his lips to the other man. He felt a vaguely familiar heat run through him, he shuddered, he knew this…

They stayed close sharing breath before they leaned close again, that spark igniting as their lips touched. James leaned forward, pressing deeper, he liked this. The body against his was so warm, he moved his arm without thinking, easily lifting the slender man into his lap.

Anthony went willingly pressing close as he straddled his lap and James sighed into the other's mouth as this kissed. Moving his hands under the shirt touching warm flesh fingers skittering across thick twisted lines of scar tissue.

They stayed like that, content in each other’s embrace taking comfort in each other. James was unsure what it was but his head was buzzing pleasantly. Parting Anthony gave a soft sigh melting into him, nuzzling into his neck.

James wrapped him in his arms holding him close, pressing a kiss to the metal implant on the side of his head.

“They knew who we were today didn’t they James?” the voice was soft, husky it wrapped around him as he ran a hand down his back.

“Yes,” he answered, but the man’s face still alluded him.

“Do you…do you think we had lives…before?” The question was so soft, hesitant and uncertain.

James couldn’t answer, he had hope…but hope was a dangerous thing to have.

Anthony let out a soft breath against his neck nuzzling closer, James held him tight.

Things were different this time only he couldn’t figure out why.

-#-#-#-

“Winter Soldier is here,” he heard Steve grit out through the com.

Ed hurriedly replacing the chip in the Helicarrier, "I'm coming-" he started to reply stalled out as he caught sight of the figure in the way. Ed paused, heart, leaping into his throat.

“Stark?” he can hear Sam of the com, but he couldn’t find a voice as the other stepped into the light his face uncovered, Ed caught his breath unable to do anything. Jesus, he looked so young, so different. Dark eyes regarded him dispassionately, dark head cocked his head to the side as If curious.

"Ed, can you hear me?" Steve was in his ear.

“Tony,” he managed to choke out then.

The man lunged for him then, Ed just managing to close his helmet in time, but the punch still made his head ring. Staggering back, he was caught by a ferocious kick to his chest sending him skittering backwards. He hurriedly rolled out of the way, as the other leapt a knee coming down so hard that would have no doubt caved in his chest.

Around them the Helicarrier began to shake and shudder, the chip doing what it was supposed to, sending it into the river

“Jesus, Tony, it’s me, it’s Ed!” he tried pulling his helmet back again. The expression on the others face didn’t change. He just took another swing, Ed only managing to half dodge catching his arm. He felt it even through the suit.

"Please, Tony," he begged doing his best to dodge and block.

"I am Mekhanik," the man grated out finally getting hold Ed's suit, hauling him close, "Mission, I have a mission?"

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of something.

Ed took the opening he grabbed his arms, “Anthony, you are Anthony Stark.”

The identical brown eye blinked at him and for a moment Ed thought he saw something there, recognition. Before they were blank again and he was being thrown.

Hitting the floor hard, there was an explosion then somewhere below and the floor shuddered. Ed tried to roll out of the way but he wasn't fast enough, falling debris pinned his legs. Cursing he tried to move them, he couldn't hear the others anymore. Just the roaring of the fire around him.

Panting he tried to move the metal beam, it refused to budge. Beginning to panic that he was going to fall into the river trapped, he tried to think his way out. Panting hard he tried to ignore the rising panic, he couldn’t…he couldn’t be trapped, not again.

Suddenly the metal beam was moving lifting away from his legs and tossed to the side. Confused, and more than a little dazed he watched as the man he’d just been fighting pulled him free.

Abruptly Ed was hauled to his feet by strong hands, pushing him towards the opening of the ship. Stumbling he tried to talk, tried to get his bearings the man was moving him fast pausing before the opening.

“Tony,” he gasped,

The man pushed him out, “Go.”

He managed the get the suit moving again away from the exploding ship before he was crashing to ground on the shoreline. Watching as the ships plummeted into the water. He groaned falling back on the ground as he tried to get his frantically beating heart under control.

-#-#-#-

He dragged the dead weight onto the river bank.

Clear of the water he paused looking down at the vaguely familiar face, he knew him…had known him? He frowned shaking his head, tensing at a sound further up the bank. A slim figure appeared from the darkness of the trees.

“Anthony,” he rasped as he moved towards the other.

He reached a metal arm for the other, pleased when their fingers tangled together. Soft brown eyes looked up at him, open, and afraid.

“What now?” he whispered.

James, he was James now, he pulled him close. He gently kissed the others temple, frowning when he spotted the bloody gash near the tender skin around his implant.

“Ok?”

Anthony nodded, “Yes,” he murmured turning his lips up pressing them together, it was sweet, full of promise…of hope.

“Are we free?” Anthony asked lips still close to his.

“We’re free,” James breathed.

-#-#-#-

“You look like shit Rogers,” Ed mumbled as he collapsed into the uncomfortable hospital chair by his bed.

Steve snorted on the bed, “Pot meet kettle.”

Ed chuckled itching at the sling that held his arm. The sat in silence for a bit, each lost in their thoughts.

“Any word?” Steve finally asked softly, as if giving voice to the words would break whatever the fragile thing was between them.

“No,” Ed replied softly picking at the ugly hospital pants he wore, “I’m working on it. JARVIS will find them.” He hoped he sounded more confident then he felt.

Steve nodded leaning back on his pillows, a half-smile tugging his lips, "He saved me you know, pulled me from the river I'm sure of it."

Ed returned the half-grin, "Tony…he…he saved me on the ship, freed me when I was trapped."

Ed blinked the tears threatening, pushing against his eyes. On the bed, Steve turned his hand palm face-up, Ed reached for it, curling his fingers in the strong palm.

"We'll find them, Ed," Steve returned the promise, and they sat taking a quite comfort in each other.

End.


End file.
